Sam and Dean Winchester in Skyrim
by Shara Raizel
Summary: Sam's not sure what happened. One minute he and Dean had been running through a forest in North Dakota after a black dog that Bobby had sent them after, and the next they had found themselves in a world that looks like it's right out of Lord of the Rings. His demonic powers are back and stronger then ever and Dean is apparently something called a "Dragonborn."
1. Dean, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anym

Ok, so... my brother, sister and I started playing Skyrim this summer. I'm not normally a video-gamer (I prefer to watch, not play) but Skyrim is addictive man! I totally suck at fighting in it, but it's fun, and apparently I've been playing it and/or watching my sister and brother play it too much lately because I had a dream where Sam and Dean found themselves in Skyrim and I just had to write a fan fic about it. Now because my own game play sucks, I'm using Skyrim Lets Plays on Youtube as my models for the gameplay storyline aspects of this fic. Now the first couple of chapters of this will follow straight story from the game, but as things progress I'll add more original(ish) input and adventures in for our boys. Oh, and just so y'all know, for Sam and Dean this takes place during season 3 after Mystery Spot and before the finale. All you guys really need to know is that Sam has been trying to find a way to break Dean's deal but has had no luck and Dean's only got a little under a month left. Ok, enough from me. Enjoy the fic!

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Chapter 1: Dean, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

POV – Sam's

Sam wasn't sure what to think anymore. One minute he and Dean had been running through a forest in North Dakota after a black dog that Bobby had sent them after, and the next they had found themselves in a skirmish that was right out of Lord of the Rings. In the sudden confusion, Sam tried to keep track of Dean, but something struck him from behind and he fell to his knees. He heard his brother cry out to him, but everything was quickly fading to black.

When he awoke, it was to the jarring sensation of hitting a pothole. Instead of hearing the soothing rumble of the Impala, however, there were the creaking and bumpy movements of a cart or wagon. Confused, Sam opened his eyes and tried to blink his vision back into focus. He was startled to realize that he was indeed in a cart and that his hands were tightly bound. In front of him was a blond man who looked to be around Dean's age, but with long blond hair that reached his shoulders. He was dressed in grey and blue armor and his hands were bound as well. Looking to his left he saw the driver of the cart – a man in red and brown armor – and another cart ahead of them carrying more bound men in blue and grey. There were more men dressed in red and brown walking beside the carts. Clearly those in the carts were these men's prisoners.

Alarmed, Sam quickly looked to his right and felt a minor wave of relief to find Dean slumped beside him. There was a worrisome gash on his brother's left temple, but other than that and a few forming bruises, he looked fine. Next to Dean at the end of the cart was another man in blue and grey armor, but his appeared to be more elaborate, suggesting a higher rank than the man sitting in front of Sam. The man was slightly older too, with long light-brown hair, but unlike the man in front of Sam, this one was gagged in addition to being bound.

Across from this older man was a younger one that looked to be around Sam's age. He was clean-shaven and had short dark hair. He wasn't wearing any armor, like the other two; only a yellowed tunic and brown breeches and foot wrappings. Glancing down at himself and Dean, Sam realized that they were wearing similar garb as well. The hell?

Lifting his head a bit more, Sam took in their surroundings. They were still in a forest, but clearly they weren't in North Dakota anymore. Not with mountains like those. Hell, he and Dean hadn't even been near mountains before they found themselves here. He wasn't even sure he knew the names of the kinds of trees that now surrounded him. And it looked like they were on a well-used cobblestoned path to somewhere.

Before he could really panic, however, Dean groaned beside him and started moving.

"S'mmy?"

"I'm right here, Dean," Sam said softly, pressing his thigh up against his brother's since he couldn't do much else with his hands bound.

Their short exchange attracted the attention of the man in front of Sam.

"Hey, you two. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the boarder, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there," the man said.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," growled the young man that had been called a thief. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

Sam and Dean traded worried looks. Stormcloaks? Empire? Skyrim? Hammerfell? Just where the hell had they ended up?

"You there," the thief said, catching Sam and Dean's attention again. "You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

Sam couldn't help but agree. Wherever this was, it was far from home. He wondered if they had managed to wander into another mystery spot or something of the like. He was honestly hoping that this was all a bad dream after watching a marathon of the Lord of the Rings movies.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the man in front of Sam said.

"Shut up back there!" the driver of their cart barked.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" the thief said in a softer voice, glaring at the man seated across from him.

"Watch your tongue," growled the Stormcloak. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

Sam and Dean shared another look. High King? What was this? Narnia?

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you… Oh Gods, where are they taking us?!" the thief cried.

Sam felt a sinking sensation in his gut. Just great. He and Dean had somehow managed to land themselves in the middle of a rebellion. A rebellion that might be nearing its end if it's leader had been captured. He had a really bad feeling about what awaited them at the end of this ride.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," the Stormcloak rebel said calmly. _Resignedly_.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening," the thief whimpered.

Sam felt Dean shift uneasily beside him. He couldn't help but scoot a little closer to his brother, providing comfort as well as seeking some for himself. Dean stilled and pressed closer until they were touching from thigh to shoulder. The cart then hit a jarring divot in the cobbled path not a minute later, though, rocking their cart violently. Dean groaned, his face turning ashen. Sam worried that the blow to Dean's head had given him a concussion. He started to worry even more when Dean voluntarily slumped against him and rested his head on his shoulder. Dean was hardly the affectionate type and never sought out his own comfort in Sam's presence. Usually they were only in this position if Sam nagged him enough. Stupid macho older brother.

But then again, with time running out and the end of his deal coming up, Dean had started to allow himself and Sam small moments like this. Especially after the mystery spot and the trickster. At the mere thought of Dean's deal, Sam felt his eyes sting with tears. He still hadn't found a way to save his older brother. There was a little under a month left, but if this strange turn of events played out the way Sam was dreading it was, then it wouldn't matter. He wished that his hands weren't bound so that he could hold Dean. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. Dean wouldn't care for that kind of thing. He'd consider it an intimate chick-flick moment and those had always been a no-no unless it was Sam that was really hurting. Really, _really_ hurting.

"Hey. What village are you from horse thief?" the man in front of him asked, bringing Sam out of his despairing thoughts.

"Why do you care?" the thief grumbled.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the rebel said gently.

"…Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead," the thief answered haltingly.

Sam had no idea what a Nord was – though clearly is was what could be considered these men's nationality – nor where Rorikstead was, but he admired the man in front of him for trying to reach out and calm the thief.

"General Tullius, sir!" someone called out. "The headsman is waiting."

It was then that Sam realized that the forest around them had thinned out and that they were now entering a village that looked like it came straight out of a medieval fantasy movie. Again, like something out of Lord of the Rings.

"Good. Lets get this over with," someone answered. Sam couldn't see who.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," the thief prayed, his brief moment of calm gone.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," growled the man in front of Sam. Sam looked around as much as he could with Dean resting against him, but still couldn't catch a glimpse of this General guy. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

Elves? Dean glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. Sam shrugged gently so as not to jostle Dean and hurt him further.

"This is Helgen," the rebel sighed after a moment of silence. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

Dean snorted softly, but the Stormcloak rebel apparently was too lost in his reminiscences to take notice.

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"

Hearing a child's voice, Sam glanced around him to his left and saw a house were a young boy sat on the steps leading up to it. A man – clearly the boy's father – rushed forward and pulled the boy to his feet.

"You need to go inside, little cub," he said.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." The boy pouted.

"Inside the house. Now." The man said sharply, tugging the boy towards the house's door. Sam couldn't watch any more without becoming an owl, so he returned his gaze forward. He heard the boy say, "Yes, papa," just as he saw that the cart ahead of them had come to a stop at the edge of a cleared courtyard filled with red and brown armored soldiers and villagers that were beginning to crowd around at the outskirts.

"Whoa!" their driver called as he angled their cart to come in beside the other one.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" A woman's voice cut through the air.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked.

"Why do you think? End of the line," the man opposite Sam said ominously before addressing Sam and Dean. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

Sam felt Dean sit himself upright and slowly rose to his feet. Sam quickly followed, not wanting to stray far from Dean.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief cried as he hopped off the cart after the gagged man.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," the Stormcloak rebel scoffed from behind Sam and Dean.

Dean jumped down behind the thief, swaying unsteadily on his feet for a moment. Sam hurried down and reached his bound hands out to help steady him. He really didn't like how pale his brother looked.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief continued to cry out as they all approached a woman in elaborate brown and red armor with silver plating. Sam was surprised to see a woman soldier, one clearly high in rank in comparison to the man beside her who was holding a list of some kind.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," the woman barked.

"Empire loves their damn lists," growled the Stormcloak now standing beside them.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," the man with the list called out.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" the blond muttered as they watched the gagged man follow a soldier to the courtyard on their left.

"Ralof of Riverwood."

Sam watched the man next to them follow his Jarl's example and wordlessly passed the woman soldier and headed towards the courtyard.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" the thief – Lokir – cried before making a run for it.

"Halt!" the woman yelled.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir cried desperately as he fled.

"Archers!" the woman called, and Sam noticed the armored bowman in the shadows of the building to their right aim and took the thief out with only one shot. Dean stiffened beside him and Sam pursed his lips. Obviously running was not an option.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the woman demanded, glaring at him and Dean, as well as the other Stormcloak rebels from the other cart.

"Wait. You there. Step forward," The man with the list said to them.

Sam and Dean traded nervous glances before approaching together. The woman continued to glare at them, but didn't say anything.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

When Dean didn't answer Sam spoke up.

"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."

"They are Nords from the look of them," the woman scoffed. "No other men in all of Tamriel are that tall."

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," the man smiled sadly before addressing the woman. "Captain. What should we do? They're not on the list."

"Forget the list. They go to the block," the woman sneered.

"By your orders, Captain," he said before facing Sam and Dean again. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoners."

Sam wanted to protest. Something. Anything. He wanted to say that this wasn't their "homeland." That they didn't belong here. To run like the thief had. But the Captain was watching them and the archer behind her had another arrow already knocked and ready. Instead, he and Dean followed the woman as she led them to where the rebels were gathered before the armored soldiers. A decorated armored man was speaking to the gagged rebel leader.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he was saying as they approached. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Sam again shared a confused look with Dean. "A power like the Voice?" What the hell was that supposed to mean? Whatever it was, that was probably why the man was gagged. Sam wondered it he was a magic user or something.

Ulfric only growled at the man in response, voice muffled by the gag.

"You started this war," the red and gold armored man continued, "plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

Then a high-pitched sound echoed around the mountains surrounding the village and the stone walls around the courtyard. Sam and Dean and many others looked up and around to see if they could spot the source of the noise.

"What was that?" someone asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on," the high-ranking man said dismissively.

"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain saluted.

Ah. So he was the General that Ralof had been talking about.

"Give them their last rites," the Captain said, as she turned to a person wearing golden robes.

Sam then took note of the other people in front of him. Aside from the General and the Captain, there was the golden robed person, the man who'd had the list, and another man dressed in a white fur skirt and boots, dark breeches, tunic, and hood, and was wielding a large sinister looking axe. Sam felt his heart jump up into his throat. Oh God…

Then a woman's voice came from the golden-garbed figure – she must have been a priestess or something.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a Stormcloak rebel said, stepping forth and interrupting the woman.

"As you wish," the holy woman said, sounding mildly irritated.

"What a dick," Dean muttered under his breath. "Someone is in a hurry to die."

"Come on, I haven't got all morning," the Stormcloak said as the Captain forced him to his knees and shoved his head onto the stone block before the man with the axe. Sam gulped when he noticed the crate where…

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" the Stormcloak rebel sneered just before the man raised the axe and brought in down, severing head from shoulders, the head dropping neatly into the awaiting crate.

"Holy shit!" Dean whispered faintly, stepping back into Sam.

"You Imperial bastards!" a voice cried out angrily as the Captain used her foot to nudge the beheaded man's body to the side and off the chopping block. Sam looked to his left and was surprised to realize that one of the Stormcloak rebels was a woman. For a medieval society, women appeared to have an equal standing alongside the men. Seriously. A woman rebel soldier and a woman Captain.

"Justice!" cried out the voice of the father from earlier.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another woman's voice called out.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof sighed from beside Sam.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the Captain called out, pointing a finger at Dean.

"No!" Sam cried out just as another roaring sound – deeper this time and louder than the last – echoed around the courtyard.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the list-carrying soldier asked.

"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain barked.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," List Soldier said softly. He almost sounded remorseful.

"No!" Sam cried again as Dean took a shaky step forward. "Dean!"

Sam made a move to follow his brother, but soldiers seized him from behind.

"Sam! Don't," Dean said sharply as another soldier came up to him and grabbed him by the elbow.

Sam stared into his brother's eyes pleadingly.

"It's going to be alright, Sammy," Dean smiled sadly as he let the soldier lead him to the chopping block.

No, it's not. Dean was such a liar. How could anything be all right about this situation? They were going to die here – beheaded! – and Dean's soul was going to go to hell.

Dean shook off the soldier's hold and walked the remaining distance to the block under his own power. Sam saw him swallow deeply, Adam's apple bobbing, before easing himself to his knees and laid his head on the blood covered stone block, facing away from Sam.

Sam trembled in the soldiers' hold, tears spilling down his face as he watched the headsman hoist his weapon up. Another roar sounded and Sam saw Dean's body start in shock, reacting to something behind his executioner.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius exclaimed.

"Sentries! What do you see?" The Captain asked.

"It's in the clouds!" a Soldier answered and Sam looked up just in time to see a…

"Dragon!" the Stormcloak woman cried out as a large black beast dropped from the sky and landed atop the tower behind the execution site. The force of it's landing shook the ground and caused the headsman to fall away to the side and away from Dean. The dragon let out a loud roar and there was a crack of thunder, the sky suddenly darkening, dark clouds swirling overhead and an electrical energy filling the air. The dragon attacked, a shockwave of electrical energy blasting away some of the soldiers.

"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" General Tullius called out to his men.

Sam took advantage of the sudden chaos and rushed to Dean's side where he lay next to the chopping block. Sam did his best to haul Dean to his feet with his still-bound hands.


	2. We have DRAGONS!

Chapter 2: We Have...DRAGONS!

POV – Dean's

"Hey, kinsmen," Ralof shouted at them from nearby. "Get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!"

Dean stumbled to his feet as Sam's great paws yanked him upright.

"This way!" Ralof cried leading them into one of the stone structures. A tower of some kind, Dean noted absently when they came to a stop beside a winding stone staircase. God, his head hurt.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof exclaimed suddenly. Dean looked up blearily and noticed that there were a few other Stormcloak rebels with them. Dean also couldn't help but notice that they were all unbound as well, lucky bastards.

"What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked his leader.

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric said grimly, his voice rough from being gagged.

"No shit," Dean groaned, leaning heavily against Sam. He felt his little brother shift to help him as well as he could. They both still had their hands tied. Couldn't someone freaking untie them now?

"We need to move. Now!" Ulfric barked as the ground shook from another attack from the dragon.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof added and started up the stairs.

Sam moved to help him, but Dean just shoved him away, settling on his own two feet again, and made for the steps himself.

"Up the stairs, quickly!" Ulfric urged them. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!" a Stormcloak Soldier informed them from higher up the tower. Just when they neared his position, the dude was blown away as the dragon blew in part of the wall.

"Get back!" Ralof shouted. Just in time too. The dragon shot a blast of flames in, burning the unfortunate nameless Stormcloak man to a crisp.

"Toor…Shul!" Dean heard whispered in his head. Confused, he looked around, but could find no reasonable source for the voice. It had been hissed, eerily reminding him of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings. Man, if he ever got out of here he was never watching those movies again!

When the dragon was gone, Dean and Sam followed Ralof up to the hole in the wall and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. The entire village was up in flames and screams and shouts could be heard from all over the place beneath the dragon's loud roars.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof sudden said, shaking Dean's shoulder. "Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow when we can."

Dean wanted to snap some scathing comment, but in the wake of all this fear and the adrenaline rushing through his system, the words failed to come to him. He then glanced back over his shoulder at Sam, seeing his brother's hazel eyes wide with fear and concern. Dean reigned in his own fear and backed up as far as the landing on the stairs allowed.

"Come on, Sam," he said, steeling himself before charging forward, throwing himself through the hole in the roof of the building below and rolled with the fall to lessen the impact. The smoke and heat of the flames along with the sudden pain from his head injury – damn it, probably a concussion – left him disoriented. He felt more than heard Sam's own jump before his brother was there with him and helping him down and out through the ruined building and out into clearer air.

Dean could hear someone speaking as they exited the inn and came across the soldier that Dean recognized from earlier – the only one that hadn't been a complete dick.

"Don't look up. Just focus on me. You can do it!" the soldier was saying to a little boy that was standing between them and the dragon that had just landed nearby. "Haming, you need to get over here. Now! That a boy. You're doing great."

The boy made it to the soldier, but it was only then that Dean noticed the man behind the boy.

"Torolf!" the soldier shouted before the dragon reared it's head back and let loose another blast of flames. "Gods… Everyone get back!"

Dean, Sam, the boy, the soldier and an elderly looking man ducked behind the remains of another building to avoid the rest of the flaming blast. Thankfully the dragon left soon after the attack and went to go torment some other part of the village.

"Still alive, prisoners?" the soldier asked when he spotted them. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." Yeah, no problem there, chief, but where the hell were those Stormcloak dudes? "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," the old man – Gunnar – said, voice dripping with respect.

Hadvar nodded and charged off.

"Come on," Dean muttered to Sam, following the soldier. He tried not to look at the charred remains of the Torolf guy on the ground as they passed.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar called out to them as they ducked down between a stone wall and the scorched remains of some building. They could hear the shouts of nearby soldiers struggling to put up some sort of defense when the dragon dropped down from the sky and attacked again. Dean gasped and they found themselves crouched against the wall beneath the wings of the dragon. One of its winged limbs was right in front of him and Sam, too close for comfort. Then that voice was back, louder this time.

"Yol…Toor…Shul!" it hissed in his head. Was that… coming from the dragon?!

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar shouted the moment the dragon moved on.

They raced up the steps, through a demolished floor plan and out into an active battleground. Dean had to do a double take when he saw an armored, but unarmed man send a blast of fire of his own after the dragon. Christ, there were magic users here too. So where the hell was this world's equivalent of Gandalf and those elves Ralof had mentioned before? They could certainly use their help about now. All around them were the shouts of the soldiers.

"Tell my family I fought bravely."

"Come on. Give me your hand, I'm getting you out of here."

"Move! Move!"

"Hadvar!" General Tullius' voice suddenly called out over the noise of battle. "Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"

"It's you and me, prisoners. Stay close!" Hadvar barked.

Dean made sure Sam was still with him before following the soldier. They hurried through more flaming wreckage and choking smoke before Hadvar stopped.

"Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" he shouted.

It took Dean a moment to recognize the Stormcloak rebel that had been captured with them and had aided them in the beginning. The man's blond hair was blackened with soot. He also appeared to have found more of his allies.

"We're escaping Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Ralof shouted back at the soldier.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde." Hadvar hissed angrily.

"You two! Come on, into the keep!" Ralof shouted as he made for one entrance into a stone structure.

"With me, prisoners. Let's go!" Hadvar shouted as he headed for another.

Dean traded a considering glance with his brother before they both turned to follow Ralof. Hadvar may have been decent for a soldier, but the rest of his companions were huge dicks, especially that bitch that had ordered him onto the chopping block. Ralof had already proven to be a good ally anyway.

"Through here, let's go!" Ralof cried as they ducked into the keep.

Inside they entered a circular chamber with a large looming chandelier hanging above. There was a large rug covering most of the cracked cobblestoned flooring as well as a few tapestries and hunting trophies on the stone, moss-covered walls. Ralof rushed past them and approached a slumped figure in Stormcloak garb lying beside the only table and chair in the room. He dropped to his knees and checked the man over. Even with a throbbing head, Dean could tell there was no helping the poor bastard. He was already dead.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother," Ralof said softly before rising to his feet. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt." Really?! Gee. Ya think?! What was your first clue? The fact that it was a giant flying lizard, or that it could breath fire? "Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times. We better get moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

Thank fuck.

Dean waited impatiently for Ralof to undo the damned leather strips binding his hands together.

"There you go," Ralof said once he was finished untying Sam. "One of you may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it any more."

Sam and Dean shared a startled look and glanced over at the dead man. Upon closer inspection, Dean saw how young the man was. God… He looked like he was barely out of his teens.

"…He's closer to your size, Dean," Sam said softly, looking a little green around the gills.

"…Yeah. Ok," Dean nodded, swallowing as he crouched down and started to remove the man's clothes. His hands wouldn't stop trembling as he removed the armor, chainmail, boots, and the rest of the clothing – leaving the kid in nothing but his under-linens – making the process take longer than it should have. Sam helped him with the more complicated bits on the armor and chainmail.

"All right, get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I'm going to see if I can find some way out of here," Ralof nodded at them before turning his attention to the two other doors leading to their room. Dean didn't like seeing that both were barred doors like the ones found in a prison.

He felt his gut churn as he changed out of the shitty rags he's been wearing since waking up in this fucked up world and put on the dead kid's clothes. They were still warm too, making Dean's skin crawl. It felt so wrong. Sure, he and Sam had been charged with multiple counts of grave desecration, but they never stole the clothes off of the corpses, let alone wear them.

Taking Ralof's advice, Dean hefted the axe and tested the weight of it in his hand, giving it a few experimental swings. Wielding it wasn't bad, but an axe was far from his first weapon of choice. Preferably he'd have his Colt or Desert Eagle handguns, but this didn't seem like a world that had guns. His Bowie knife would also be a welcome weapon choice, but he and Sam had wound up here without anything they'd been carrying before. Hell. They didn't even have their anti-demon possession tattoos anymore. Everything had been left behind. …Except for his amulet. For some strange reason Dean still had the amulet that Sam had given him when they were kids. Now why did that of all things cross over with them, and not the tattoos that had been inked into their skin?

"This one's locked. Let's see about that gate," Ralof reported before moving on to the other door, inspecting it. "Damn. No way to open this from our side."

"Well that's just great," Dean muttered to Sam. "What now?"

"We can always go back out and face the dragon," Sam smirked.

Dean snorted, wincing when the action made his head throb. Oww. Yeah. Not doing that again. Then there was a loud clang and sounds of a couple someones approaching.

"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Ralof hissed, backing them away from the door and against the wall.

"Get this gate open," a woman's voice ordered. Sam tensed beside him and Dean scowled, tightening his grip on the axe. He'd recognize Captain Bitch's voice anywhere.

The door opened with a loud groan and clang, allowing Captain Bitch and a lowly grunt soldier inside. The bitch scowled when she saw them and charged right at them.

"Don't let those Stormcloaks get away!" she cried, launching herself at Dean.

Dean shoved Sam back behind him, out of harms way and he brought his axe up in time to block a blow from the bitch's sword, the sound and force of the impact were not doing his head any favors. He managed to force her back and took a swing at her before her companion was on him as well. Dean stumbled back, loosing his grip on the unfamiliar weapon as he fell flat on his ass, rolling out of the way in time to avoid an overzealous stab of the bitch's sword. Seriously! What was wrong with her? Did she really want to see him dead that badly? What'd he ever do to her?

"Agh!"

Dean looked up in time to see Ralof cut through the grunt soldier's jugular with an axe. Damn. That was going to be the only way to stop these people wasn't it? It was kill or be killed and normally Dean wouldn't have a problem with that in their line of work, but these were humans! They were people, not monsters. Dean dodged another blow from Captain Bitch and looked around for his own damn weapon. These Imperial douche bags weren't exactly giving them much choice. Where the hell did he drop that axe?!

Captain Bitch took another swing at him before suddenly halting, blood spurting out over her lips before she fell forward. Dean's wayward axe was imbedded in her spine. Dean looked up and saw Sam staring down at the woman, wide eyed, and outstretched hand trembling in shock.

"Sammy," Dean grunted as he dragged himself to his feet.

Sam's eyes snapped up to meet his, and just stared at him for a second before hurrying over to him, hands still shaking as he checked Dean over for injuries.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean hushed, grabbing his brother's wrists to still his hands. "I'm fine."

"Dean… Oh God," Sam said, voice barely a whisper as his eyes trailed over to the two freshly dead bodies of the Imperial soldiers.

"Maybe one of these Imperials had the key," Ralof said, startling the two of them. "Lets see here…"

Dean and Sam looked over at where Ralof was crouched beside the dead woman and searched her pockets.

"Here we are, found a key," Ralof said triumphantly. "Let's see if it opens that door."

"…Better grab some of his armor," Dean muttered to Sam, nodding his head over at the dead grunt. "Something tells me we're not getting out of here without another fight."

Sam nodded, face grey and green as he began to remove the thick leather-hide armor. Dean helped him remove and put on the bloodied clothes, not wanting them to be left behind when Ralof finally got that door open. The clothes were almost ridiculously short on Sam. Dean was just grateful that the soldier guy had had some girth to him, so at least it wasn't too small.

"We'll get you better fitting clothes when we have the chance," Dean promised.

Sam nodded, clipping the soldier's dagger to his belt and picked up the sword, giving it a few swings to test the balance. Dean did the same with Captain Bitch's sword. Still not his weapon of choice, but it was a lot better than that axe. He also took the now-dead woman's dagger – it was nice and ornamental looking – and attached it to his hip. It wasn't a Bowie knife, but it was better than nothing.

"That's it!" Ralof suddenly cheered as the door opened with a clang. "Come on, let's get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads."

Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive glance before following. Dean made sure that he went ahead of Sam, but from the way his little brother was hanging back anyway, he had a feeling that it was exactly where his brother wanted to be. Probably to make sure he'd see any signs of weakness on Dean's part, damn overgrown puppy.

The hall outside the previous chamber was dimly lit with torchlight and curved around, leading down. Once they reached the bottom there was a long hall with barred doors down it's length. Just as they started to make their way down the long stretch of tunnel, a loud roar echoed and suddenly a section of ceiling came down a short ways ahead of them.

"Look out!" Ralof gasped, examining the rubble blocking their way. "Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy."

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw how unnerved his brother was. Honestly, Dean wasn't doing much better. Things were seriously fucked up.

"Grab everything important and let's move! Dragon's burning everything to the ground!" someone said, voice muffled by the door on their left.

Dean wouldn't have noticed it if not for the voices. It blended in with the surrounding wall in the dim torchlight.

Ralof opened the door and they entered a storeroom of some kind. Herbs were hanging from the rafters, there were barrels, crates, shelves and a table that still held some bottles and odd ends and things. At the far end of the space there seemed to be an entrance into another room, and that's where two more Imperial Soldiers were hurrying about.

"I just need to gather some more potions," one was saying as he shuffled about.

"Imperial dogs!" Ralof roared, axe held high as he charged to attack.

"The prisoners are escaping!" the other Imperial shouted.

With a groan, Dean and Sam joined the fray against the two soldiers; trying not to think about the lives they were taking and more than happy to let Ralof deal the killing blows.

"A storeroom. See if you can find any potions. We'll need them," Ralof said as he headed deeper into the rooms.

"Potions?" Sam whispered as they spread out and checked the remaining contents on the table and shelves.

Dean shrugged. He picked up a large round bottle on the table and took a sniff of it's contents.

"Huh. Wine," he grunted, taking a swig, the cool burn of alcohol feeling good in his parched throat. It was a bit stronger than he expected, but that wasn't a bad thing. His head was still throbbing though, so he didn't drink much more, passing the bottle on to Sam. Sam took it absently as he opened a barrel and examined its contents. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw a few small bottles lying in the bottom; one red, one blue, and one green.

"What do you think those do?" Dean asked.

"Duh-know," Sam shrugged. "Here. Try this one."

Sam handed him the red one.

"What am I? A guinea pig?" Dean scowled, nose scrunching in distaste.

"Come on. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Do I need to answer that, Sam?" Dean deadpanned. "Considering Winchester luck, it could be poison."

"Look, this is a supply storeroom," Sam said in his patronizing, logical voice. "I doubt there is anything in here that will harm you. Not with that collection of herbs."

Sam nodded at the bundles hanging from the rafters. They stared long and hard at each other before Dean sighed and took the vial.

"I swear, Sammy, if I die, I'm coming back to haunt your ass," Dean groused before drinking.

He shivered as a warm tingle flushed through his body. His aches and soreness gradually lessened and he was happy to note that his head didn't feel like a throbbing mess.

"Well damn," he huffed, impressed. "That stuff really works."

"Really?" Sam asked, looking excited. "How do you feel?"

"Well, my head isn't trying to drill itself open with mini-jackhammers if that's what you're asking – hey!" Dean jolted back when he felt Sam's hand ghosting over his left temple where he'd been knocked out with the butt of some imperial bastard's sword when they were captured.

"Your gash is disappearing," Sam whispered, voice filled with awe.

"Seriously?!" Dean cried, tracing his fingers lightly over the still sensitive area. To his surprise he only felt traces of raised skin where the gash was healed over. "This is some freaky shit, here, Sammy."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Sam grinned. "Something's actually working for us instead of against us."

"Yeah, well, say that again once we're out of this hell hole," Dean grumbled, eyeing a few of the other barrels and shelves for more of the red vials. "Lets take as many of these as we can and get out of here."

Sam nodded and eagerly began to collect the as many of the colored bottles as he could find. When they were certain they'd taken all that was worth looting – which wasn't much. The Imperials had already cleared most of the supplies out – they rejoined Ralof.

"Done? Let's get moving," the rebel said, looking amused.

They continued on out into another long tunnel corridor. The floor was beginning to slope downwards, bringing them even further underground. When they turned a corner, Ralof stopped short for a moment before growling angrily.

"Troll's blood! It's a torture room. Come on!" the man roared, barreling into the dungeon-like chamber.

There was already another Stormcloak rebel – the woman from the other prisoner cart – down there fighting two armed men and one with what looked like electrical sparks dancing around his fingers. Ralof wasted no time, arming himself with a bow that he must have picked up along the way, and shot down one of the soldiers point blank. Dean took a swing at the magic user, delivering a disarming stab to the guy's middle, with the other Stormcloak rebel delivering the finishing blow. Sam and Ralof were just finishing up with the third man – one who looked as if he was in charge of this horror chamber – when Dean turned to aid them. Sam engaged the Imperial, locking their blades and provided Ralof with the opportunity to finish off their opponent.

"Was Jarl Ulfric with you?" Ralof asked their new female companion.

"No, I haven't seen him since the dragon showed up," she said grimly.

While Ralof and the woman talked, Dean took in the torture chamber, stomach roiling at the reeking smell of blood, urine, and rotting flesh. Sam looked equally sick as they spied the large patches of blood – both wet and dry – and the dead corpses in the cage-cells, nearly all of them dressed in Stormcloak garb.

"Wait a second," Ralof called, directing their attention towards one of the cages. "Looks like there's something in this cage. It's locked. See if you can get it open with some picks. We might need that gold once we get out."

Ralof held out a set of picks towards them. Dean and Sam shared another glance before Dean took the picks and got started on the lock. He was better than Sam at lock picking anyway. He opened it no problem, almost scoffing with how easy it was – even Sam could have done it. He tried to ignore the body, grabbing the handful of gold coins scattered on the floor, and the potion bottle – this one white.

"Wait," Sam said, pushing past Dean to get at a book lying on the floor.

"This is not the time to read, Sam," Dean huffed.

Sam shot him a glare as he opened the book, making a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I can read this," Sam said, awed as he flipped through the pages of the book. "I think it's a spell book.

"Grab anything useful and let's go," Ralof said, making his way towards what looked to be another hallway.

"Come on," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes when he saw Sam stash the text away in his tunic beneath the armor.

They followed Ralof and the woman out of the torture chamber and down another long descending hallway. They passed through more empty torture and prison rooms, and went down more stairs. Dean felt the air grow colder the farther they went underground. Eventually the cobblestone flooring ended, replaced with packed down dirt, and the long hallways became winding stretches of cave wall. It wasn't until they entered a natural chamber formed by an underground river that they ran into more Imperials. It was kind of tricky having to fight them on the rickety wooden platforms and support bridges that stretched over the river instead of on firm ground, but with the four of them, it was pretty easy to dispatch of the Imperials. It helped that Dean's head no longer ached and that he wasn't trying to think about the lives he was taking. All that mattered was survival that right now. Dean was quite content to face off against the Imperial Soldiers with Sam and the Stormcloak woman while Ralof picked off the enemy archers hanging back on the ledges on the other side of the river.

"Let's go on ahead. See if the way is clear," Ralof sighed once they were finished with this latest batch of enemies.

They exited the river chamber and came into a room that seemed to end.

"There has to be some way out," Dean muttered, looking around.

"There is," Sam agreed, pulling hard on a lever that dropped what Dean thought was a boarded up wall, but was actually a drop-bridge.

"The hell is up with this world?" Dean muttered under this breath. "We in some real game of Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Who knows? Knowing our luck, that's exactly where we've ended up," Sam smirked at him, bumping their shoulders together.

"You're kinda enjoying this trip a little too much, Sammy," Dean scowled.

"At least it's not boring," Sam chuckled.

"Oh no, God forbid we find ourselves in the boring sort of trouble. We couldn't end up in Pleasantville with McGuire and Witherspoon. No, we prefer Legend of Zelda," Dean sassed, earning himself another one of Sam's laughs.

"Lets see where this goes," Ralof said, leading them across the bridge, down another hall and into a wide underground cavern. There was a shuddering groaning sound before the roof behind them collapsed.

"No going back that way, now," Ralof huffed. "We'd better push on. The rest of them will have to find another way out."

"Ya think?" Dean scowled. "I'm getting really sick of our exits getting sealed off. Damn dragon."

Sam grunted in agreement.

The man-made structures ended here. There were stone steps that led down to the bedrock of the underground river that had formed the cave tunnels they were now transversing. Dean and Sam were constantly grabbing hold of each other's arms to steady themselves as they slipped and slid on the loose pebbly ground before wading into the river – thankfully nothing more than a stream now – following it until Ralof took them down a dry tributary that led them into a chamber filled with gigantic spiders.

Dean heard Sam whimper miserably before hacking away at the first arachnid that dared approach them. Dean winced as he got hit with a shot of web, the sticky thread stinging his skin. Sam let out a loud yelp as he dodged a shot of the webbing projectiles, throwing his hand up in defense. Dean nearly stopped in distraction when flames came shooting out of his brother's hand and hit the spider gunning for them. The mutant giant spider squealed, rearing up in agony before Dean stabbed it in it's exposed belly, killing it.

He looked worriedly over at Sam who was staring at his hand as if it had bitten him before staring over wide-eyed at Dean, thrusting his hand out as if in warning. Another ball of flame shot out of Sam's hand and flew over Dean's shoulder. Dean startled when he heard another loud squeal behind him and hacked at the spider he hadn't realized was about to attack him.

Once all the spiders were dead, Dean rejoined Sam, who wouldn't stop looking at his hands.

"I don't know how I did that, Dean," Sam whispered. "I just…did. And it's so easy. I just have to think of fire and…"

Both of Sam's hands became coated with bursts of flames roiling gently over his skin. With a small shake, they were gone and Sam's hands were cool as if they hadn't been on fire at all.

"I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?" Ralof grunted as he started to head out of the chamber. It was then that Dean noticed that the woman Stormcloak rebel wasn't with them anymore. She must have fallen behind at that last ceiling collapse. Ralof didn't act surprised about Sam's fire-powers. Then again, Dean had seen one of the Imperial soldiers fighting the dragon outside using a similar kind of fire magic. Maybe this was a common spell or something to know in this world and Sam just tapped into it instinctively.

"Dean…" Sam said, voice wavering fearfully.

"Come on, Ron Weasley," Dean huffed. "We'll worry about it later."

Sam pursed his lips, but nodded, following Dean as they hurried to catch up with their companion.

They made their way down, somehow making it back to the river-stream, which they continued the follow for some time. Dean really hoped that they were getting close to an exit. The damp air of these caves and caverns made him feel like he was being stifled. The next chamber they entered had some streams of sunlight coming from outside, though, so he remained hopeful. Just as they were about to move on, Ralof suddenly stopped.

"Hold up," the man whispered. "There's a bear just ahead. See her? I'd rather not tangle with her right now." Dean didn't blame him. That thing resting at the far end of the chamber under a beam of sunlight from the ceiling was huge! "Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step. Take it slow and careful, and I think we can sneak by her. Go ahead. I'll follow your lead and watch your back."

Dean and Sam shared an incredulous glance before crouching down and quietly made their way around the bear, as far away from it as they could get. There were a few close calls when the rock beneath their footing slid and almost woke the beast, but after a long heart-stopping trek, they managed to reach the other end of the chamber. The further they went this time down and through the twists in the cave, the lighter it became and Dean nearly rejoiced when he saw the light up ahead.

"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" Ralof cheered.

Sam let out a relieved breath and Dean grinned at him as they exited the cave and he took his first gulp of fresh air in what felt like forever. He was blinded by the bright daylight for a moment – the glare from the snow on the ground not helping one bit – but when he could see again, the view nearly took his breath away. They were high up on a mountain and more mountains stretched out ahead of them, the low valleys in-between misted over, and lush green trees were everywhere.

"Wow," Sam whispered from beside him as they walked further out from the caves.

"Wait!" Ralof cried, yanking them back and behind an outcropping of rocks.

With a roar, the dragon from before flew overhead. They waited a couple of minutes to make sure that the beast was gone before leaving their huddled place behind the rocks by the cave entrance.

"There he goes," Ralof muttered, getting up first. "Looks like he's gone for good this time. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here. My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it without your help today. You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it's Ulfric."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, surprised by Ralof's abrupt farewell, but shrugged it off and started heading down the path the rebel had pointed out. Dean wasn't sure about joining some rebel cause, but reaching that Riverwood village sounded good to him.

* * *

And that's chapter 2. So what did you guys think? Let me know in a review if you think that I should continue writing this. It's one of many fics that have been circling around in my mind for a while, so I'd really like to know if there's interest in this. Also, I have no planed pairings at this time and plan to play this straight with keeping Sam and Dean in a close brotherly relationship, but if there is a substantial enough interest in wincest, let me know in a comment or PM and if there is enough interest I'll write a series of side-shots in a separate parallel running fic, so that this stays straight for the people who aren't interested in that sort of thing. Not sure how long it'll be before I post chapter 3, but I am open to any and all suggestions on where I should take this fic (especially if you have a recommended Let's Play Skyrim that I should consider following). I will be following the main storyline for the most part but if you have any side quests or certain character interactions you would like to see occur/expanded upon, please let me know. Thanks for reading and look forward to the next chapter!


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